Never Breathe a Word
by Luna Maria Boulevardes
Summary: "We're the Marauders.  We protect each other to the end - and we fight."  In their seventh year, James, Sirius, Remus and Peter anticipate the coming war as they're forced to confront their personal demons and uncover who they really are.  SB/RL, JP/L
1. 0: Prologue  Liar, Liar

_Never Breathe a Word_

_By L. M. Boulevardes_

**Prologue –**

**Liar, Liar**

Peter Pettigrew doesn't tell his first lie until he's eleven years old when decides not to tell Severus Snape that James Potter is the one who tripped him. James grins at him and says "Good man, Pete," once Severus has stomped off in a huff, Lily Evans hurrying after him. She shoots a glare at James and Peter think it's a good think that they don't learn wordless spells for a while because otherwise he has a feeling James would not being grinning so triumphantly but rather be suspended upside down or something equally unpleasant. Peter doesn't say anything in response, just shrugs and tries to decide where he might sit for breakfast. He's still having trouble with that, even two weeks into the term. "Hey, come eat with me," James says after a moment, perhaps noticing Peter's distress. That's all it takes for James to win Peter's affection. No one has ever invited him to be their friend like that, like he might be cool. After that Peter decides lies aren't so awful after all, whatever his mother might have told him.

James Potter tells his first lie when he's five years old and his mother asks him if he ate the cookies she made for her party. He stubbornly shakes his head, only to be undermined by the chocolate-chip cookie crumbs dotting his mouth. After that, James learns to be more careful about planning these kinds of things and making sure one lie can cover another. You really can't be too careful when it comes to lying, not if you want to stay one step ahead.

Remus Lupin tells his first lie when he's three and Anna Green asks him why his parents are emptying his cubbie. "You're going to need your paper for the art project!" she protests, wringing her tiny hands. "Aren't you doing school anymore?" Looking back, Remus will compare the look of horror on her face to certain expressions of Hermione Granger's. He glances at his parents, and somehow he just knows that _because I'm a werewolf _isn't the right answer to give. So he tells Anna he's moving, and she hugs him and cries and he goes home and throws up everywhere.

Sirius Black can't remember the first time he told a lie, but if pressed he would say it was probably shortly after his second birthday when his brother Regulus was born. It's the first one he can remember, anyway. Uncle Alphard asks him if he's excited about the baby, and Sirius shrugs and picks at his ice cream, unable to eat for some reason he doesn't understand. He feels kind of like he's going to throw up, but he doesn't know how that could happen when he hasn't eaten anything yet today. It's really too bad he can't enjoy this, he knows his parents would never let him do anything like this if they weren't at the hospital.

"Why aren't you excited for the baby, Siri?" Alphard asks, his eyebrows jumping together in concern them falling back down again. He bites his lip, then clenches his jaw at Walburga's voice echoes in his head reminding him that _only half-breeds chew on themselves like animals_. "Do you not want a brother?" Alphard presses. Sirius squirms.

"I don't mind having a brother," he says carefully, watching his uncle's green eyes flicker. A moment of silence passes as Alphard stirs his tea, even though he hasn't added anything more to it.

"Hmm. Is there something that might be bad for the baby in your home?" Alphard glances around the restaurant, checking to see if anyone is listening. It seems clear, but for safety he mutters a spell and flicks his wand under the table, trying to tease out any amplifying spells. You have to tread lightly if you're going to ask questions like this where Blacks are involved.

"Well." Sirius is biting his lip again. He feels the skin give and a trickle of blood leaks down his chin and into his mouth, tasting like salt and copper. He refuse to cry, but he sniffs and Alphard comes over to pull him into his lap, gently blotting the spot. Sirius' lips move like he has something to say, but suddenly they close tightly and he begins to tremble. Alphard looks up to see Orion approaching them, his black eyes betraying no emotion.

"Your mother is resting peacefully, and the baby is healthy," he states, sounding more like a reporter than a father. Sirius blinks and Alphard nods, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. "Sirius, come meet your brother," Orion orders, holding out a hand. Sirius hesitates and Alphard picks him up, smiling tightly.

"Oh, let me carry him. It won't be long now before he's too big for it," he says, grinning at his brother. Orion ignore him and glances at Sirius.

"Are you so weak that you need to be carried?" he questions, crossing his arms and glaring at his son. Sirius swallows.

"I would rather walk, uncle," he whispers. Alphard gently puts him down and Orion slaps his thigh, the same gesture that he uses when he wants the dogs to heel. Sirius follows him on wobbly legs, sniffing every few seconds and telling himself that it doesn't matter that Alphard's arms are warm and that he smells like cinnamon while his mother is bony and smells like wine. He wants to walk on his own. He does.


	2. I: Things That Go Bump in the Night

Chapter One

Things That Go Bump in the Night

It's July thirty-first, and it's raining like someone is angry at England. James is glaring out the window and thinking unhappily about the fact that even though he could magic some kind of shield to keep the rain off him, the ground would still be wet and muddy and rather un-fun anyway. _Remus would tell me I should read a book or do homework_, he thinks, half a smile quirking on his lips.

Remus is in Ireland this summer, the reason why depending on who you are. He's telling most people that it's just a family vacation because his mother is having separation anxiety regarding his approaching graduation, chuckling all the while. He told James, Peter and Sirius the truth, that he's taking part in a trial for a new potion that is supposed to ease his monthly transformations. James and Sirius are telling everyone that Remus is campaigning for the legalization of marriage between wizards and books after being let loose in the Trinity College Dublin library.

_We should get one of those telly things_, James thinks, staring at the ceiling and feeling sorry for himself that he's so utterly _bored_. He saw the tellies when he and his parents were in London last week. He was so taken with them he stopped in the middle of the street and was nearly run over by angry pedestrians, grumbling about _kids these days_ and _rude little berks_.

He moved closer, trying to figure out if it was an enchantment of some sort, if the muggles had learned some kind of primitive magic. They were like wizard pictures or paintings, only different because the backgrounds kept changing and the screens flickered from one image to another, jumping around in a way that pictures just didn't. He went in the store despite his mother's protests that the milk would spoil and stared at the thing for the longest time, daring once to touch it and then jumping back in surprise at his boldness.

"We've got real cheap ones, maybe you want one for your room at uni? Make you right popular with the ladies, mate. Not that you need it," the salesman flattered him, slithering over from some corner of the store. James smiled weakly and fought the instinct to smooth his hair. It was a bad nervous habit and he had decided that summer that it was about time he broke it.

"No, it's all right, thanks. I actually better get going." He laughed and let the store, face flushed. The things made _noise_. You could hear people talking, like they were right there with you. _They must use some kind of camera_, he ventured tentatively. He ought to see if he could get one, Sirius would be in fits over it.

Yes, he thinks now. He should have convinced his parents to get one of those telly things. It would be terribly useful right now when he has so little to do. He pokes at the carpet with his foot when there's a loud _bang_ from outside and frantic knocking at his door. He blinks, then gets up to answer, hoping that it's not just one of the owls being stupid.

He opens the door and it is most certainly not an owl standing before him. It's Sirius Black, drenched from head to toe and hugging a pack they way small children hold a beloved stuffed animal. His face is pale and his jeans are threatening to fall right off his slender hips. He sniffs and it's almost delicate.

"I haven't been crying, it's just wet out here," he says defensively. James just nods and opens the door wider. Sirius is hesitant entering, and James notices he's walking with a slight limp and that there's blood puddling on the carpet. He gapes and Sirius growls lowly. "I know I'm attractive, Jim, but perhaps you could get me dried off before I contract hypothermia?" he snaps.

"Don't be a prat," James replies, but he mutters a spell and the water evaporates off Sirius' body. He blinks several times as though it hadn't occurred to him to do that, and James tries to convince himself that _everything is absolutely fine_.

"Thanks," Sirius says gruffly. He heads towards the kitchen, and James follows after him, noting the trail of blood that Sirius leaves behind. As they get to the kitchen James' parents are getting up, looking between the two boys worriedly.

"Sirius, we weren't expecting you," Sarah Potter says. "Let me see what we have, and I'll put some tea on. You must be freezing." She hurries across the kitchen, her bare feet making no noise. Abraham Potter nods and closes his copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

"You're injured," he says, causing Sarah to nearly drop her tea cups. Somehow Sirius manages to pale even more and he glances down at his leg, his eyes following the bloody trail back towards the front door.

"It would appear that I am," he mused. "Sorry about that." He pulls out his wand for a cleaning spell and Potters exchange looks of concern at the way his hands are shaking. Abraham beats Sirius to the spell and then gently puts his hand over Sirius', pressing his wand down. Sirius blinks and tears fall down his face as Abraham leads him over to the kitchen table, an arm around his shoulders.

"Honey, can you make a nice pie for us? With the berries and the peaches?" Sarah says to their house-elf. Honey nods and begins gathering the ingredients, a brown-skinned and pink-pillowcased blur. Sarah and James sit down at the kitchen table, silent as they watch Abraham and Sirius.

"I'm not crying. It's just that it was raining outside," Sirius mutters as the tears keep falling down his face. Abraham nods. He takes Sirius' leg and rolls up his jeans, revealing a deep gash on his shin. James feels a little sick looking at it; he can see Sirius' muscles and even the blinding white of his bones.

"What the hell happened?" he bursts out, ignoring the look his mother shoots him. Sirius twiddles his thumbs as Abraham begins muttering spells. The flesh begins to knit itself back together and James thinks that it's an awfully good thing that he's lucky enough to have a father who spent his working years as a healer at St. Mungo's.

"I got in a fight with Regulus," Sirius says. He looks up at the ceiling and James snorts to show exactly how much credit he gives that version of events. "What?"  
>"Sorry, I wanted to know what <em>actually <em>happened, not one of your stories," he sneers. "I've seen Regulus at school, I know he didn't do that."

"I – " Sirius swallows his words and bites his lip. He reaches into his pocket (his hands are still shaking) and angrily tosses as crumbled letter at James, knocking his glasses askew. He gives a small laugh at the image and the tears fall a little harder. James rolls his eyes and opens the letter, reading it out loud as Sirius slumps in his chair.

_Dear Mr. Sirius Black II, _

_ This letter is being sent from Gringots Wizarding Bank of Diagon Alley to notify you of you recent inheritance from one Alphard Black. We request your presence at your soonest possible convenient to transfer the vault into your name and to collect your key. _

_- Gringots Wizarding Bank_

"Oh," James mutters, putting the letter down. "I'm sorry, mate. That's awful news," he says, folding the letter into a neat square. Sirius shrugs and James is still wondering about his leg, but now he's afraid to ask because he doesn't want to hear that Sirius did it to himself, and he's terrified of that. He knows Sirius thinks no one knows, but James has seen the occasional hot red lines, the greying bruises and blistered burns that are known to dot Sirius' body. He never asks, and he was only really worried about the whole Snape Thing last year, when he woke up to Sirius screaming and the bathroom twisted into some kind of torture chamber.

He didn't say anything then as blood fell from Sirius' wrists and a knife glinted in the light of the candles. The door creaked and Remus appeared next to him, his eyes wide and his latest injuries shiny and fresh. Sirius stared at them, looking like some kind of strange portrait of a fallen angel. He was only wearing his pants, his chest bare and legs bare and long hair hiding his face but not the (nonexistent, dammit) tears.

"You're an idiot," Remus said as James finally leaned over the trashcan and vomited. Sirius moaned softly and James could hear Remus muttering spells and words of comfort. He watched dazedly as Remus climbed into the bathtub with Sirius, pulling him into some kind of awkward hug as his fingers tangled in his hair.

There was a muffled keening noise and James was aware that was Remus was crying as Sirius kept saying "I'm sorry," over and over again. His voice was creaky and off, like he wasn't breathing right (and then maybe he wasn't with Remus pressing on his like that). Remus tenderly attended Sirius' injuries, ignoring the way blood seeped onto his own skin and clothes.

"You're a bloody arse, Sirius," Remus said, stilling sitting in his lap and staring. He seemed unable to decide what he felt as he cried and clenched and unclenched his fists. Sirius sniffed.

"I know," he whispered, and Remus kissed his forehead like he was blessing him and they both shook.

"Don't ever do that again. You can't – " Remus' breath hitched and it took a minute for him to recollect himself. "Don't do something awful to yourself like that. I miss enough sleep as it is, and clearly James can't hold his dinner long enough to attend to you." There was a small, strangled laugh and then they were laughing and crying and James couldn't say why, but he was suddenly embarrassed to be there. There was something too tender about the moment, too hot and close and his presence didn't feel right. He couldn't say why – they were his best mates – so he ignored it and made a noise of protest at Remus' insult.

"Well, he's not wrong," Sirius said with was shrug. So James dumped water on his head and they laughed and went back to bed like Sirius hadn't maybe just cried to kill himself.

James watched him after that, but either Sirius got sneaky or he stopped because James didn't see anymore injuries on him for a long time after that. Now, however, he wonders if maybe he didn't do enough because he doesn't like the look of Sirius' leg at all.

"This looks magically inflicted," Abraham comments tentatively. Sirius sighs and his shoulders hunch up, molding around his chest like he could wall himself off and not have to contend with any of these things.

"Mum blasted me off the family tree. I've been disowned." His voice is dead, like he's reporting something that happened to some other person. "I wasn't supposed to be talking with Uncle Alphard. Just another instance of Sirius failing the Noble House of Black." He laughs bitterly and the sound makes James shiver. "I think she was aiming for my head, but I suppose I was a bit quick for her. Ah, well," he muses, staring down at the pinkish flesh that was so bloody minutes before.

"Did that happen – often?" Sarah asks. Sirius thinks about it.

"Not terribly. Blacks don't lower themselves that way," he imitates. "But, ah, I was hoping perhaps I could stay a couple of days? Just enough I can get to Gringots and get a flat, I'm terribly sorry about all this," Sirius says. Sarah makes a noise of disagreement.

"Sirius Black, I never want to hear a question like that again. You are always welcome in this house. You most certainly will not be going out and getting a flat, you have school starting soon and you would hardly have secured it before you would have to go, and that would be a waste of Galleons. You will stay right here for as long as you want. Besides, Honey is making pie and I have a recipe contest coming up and James will get sick trying to eat it all. Don't worry about a thing,"

Sarah clucks motherly, coming over to smooth Sirius' hair. "We'll take you boys to Diagon Alley in a bit and get your books and whatever you need, and I don't want to hear a word about it." She gives Sirius such a look that he can only close his mouth and nod in response.

"Thank you," he says, voice barely above a whisper. Sarah nods and Sirius slowly stands up, swaying slightly on his feet.

"Let me show you a room. You look knackered," James says, the words entering his mind like flashcards of his mother's lessons on Being a Good Host.

"All right." Sirius follows James upstairs and they go to a red and gold room across from James'. There's a large window showing off the gardens, with a king-size bed and gold-tinged furniture. The walls are wallpapered with some red floral pattern, and while it's probably a little girly for Sirius, James figures it's best to keep his close by and that perhaps the Gryffindor colors will give him a little comfort.

"She's quite serious, you know. Don't go running off on us in the middle of the night," James says, watching as Sirius cautiously puts down his pack. He's never seen his friend like this, so subdued and childlike. _Better owl Remus_, he thinks. Remus always knows what to do. Remus is the one who can handle Sirius, who knows how to contain that dark thing in him that comes out when he's angry or jealous or hurt.

"Course not. There's pie baking," Sirius says, flashing James his million-Galleon smile. James considers probing further, telling Sirius to _be serious_ but that would just get more jokes and it's probably too late at night for that kind of conversation anyway. Besides, he figures he's got a couple of days before he really needs to start worrying and by then Remus should have answered.


End file.
